Titanoboa ran in long strides down the opposite end of the corridor from which he'd come, leaving behind the bodies of the Trainees. He checked over his shoulder and gave Ronan a look that seemed to suggest a deep regret and disappointment, and Ronan tried to offer a silent agreement that while the fallen could not be saved, if there were survivors, he and Titanoboa would need to save them."What are these things?" Ronan asked, fighting to keep pace with Titanoboa. The two dodged debris as an explosion struck at the wall to their right. Amazingly, the sharp stone missed the two. "I don't know," Titanoboa confessed. "But they are in great numbers and are immune to our magic." Ronan was stupefied at this information, and Titanoboa had to grab the Trainee by the shoulder to get him moving again. At the end of the corridor was a staircase leading down to the dining hall, and the large, magically sealed doors to the library. Right at the tip of the stairs, Titanoboa collapsed to a knee
Although the sky was bright and sunny, nothing was beautiful. The town street Ronan had landed on through the portal was damp, cold, and smelled of horse droppings. Nearby, gray brick and mortar houses looked as though they were on their last legs. Each door and window shutter was hanging on by loose screws and covered in cheap, chipped paint. The chimney on one home at the edge of the street had long since collapsed, leaving ashy rubble in the road. Ronan sat up in great pain over his still bleeding wound. Disoriented, he rummaged for his sword. It was nowhere to be found, and he determined that he had dropped it when traveling through the Serpent Sorceress' portal. The portal too had disappeared, and Ronan realized he was on his own and weaponless. For the first time in over a decade, he was outside of the temple. Ronan fought his way to his feet, then felt a faint and nervous smile creep its way on his face. He was in rough shape, but he was alive, and he would fulfill his obj
For the next few hours, Ronan slipped in and out of consciousness. The bits and pieces he could remember felt dreamlike. First, he recalled two dapper Nightblades standing over him. One of the man's lips had pursed when he asked, "Should we leave him? He's about as clean as a rat."Secondly, Ronan remembered the deafening clank of a large set of pliers on an iron table beside him. Somebody in the room had said, "There's no way this thin mutt will survive."Lastly, Ronan recollected screaming so hard his vision went black.Then, he was awake and lying in the comfiest bed he'd ever been in.His old and itchy wool clothes had been replaced with a matching set of cool gray fencing trousers and a breezy doublet. Ronan's hair had been combed, and his skin washed. He smelled of blueberries and rose water. Most importantly, through his opened doublet, he could see that the shard inside him had been removed and that his stomach had been bandaged. There was no sign of infection, or any b
A gorgeous nurse dressed in a bright pink blouse and lacey white skirt handed Ronan a silver dinner plate. He sat up in his heavenly bed and graciously accepted the steaming plate of roasted broccoli and chicken slices that were adorned in melted cheese and herbs. "Thank you, Angelina," Ronan said, the delicious scent of the food making him smile brightly. Everybody he'd seen in the temple so far was older than him, and it made him feel all the more pampered, as if catching up on the nurturing he never received growing up.Tresses of Angelina's curly blonde hair brushed Ronan's cheek as she adjusted his pillow and said, "You're very welcome, Sir Ronan."Ronan fixed the plate on his lap and picked up his fork. Chuckling, he said, "I insist, just Ronan is fine."Angelina nodded and returned his soft smile. She said, "You'll have to forgive me, Ronan. I'm very accustomed to the formalities of this temple." She lifted the side of his gray doublet, inspected the stitching on his mend
Ronan scarfed down the rest of his meal and got up from his bed. He gave his shoulder a quick roll and then stretched to touch his toes. Angelina had measured him at 6'2, though he never realized how tall he was since he'd been hunched over in hunger so often. He was getting used to carrying a proper amount of weight on him for his size, and was eager to turn the twenty pounds he'd gained into muscle.But he was more eager to speak to this mysterious Rank 8 Master and discover what had happened to his temple. Ronan followed behind Ike, who continued to blow loose hair from his eyes with each stumbling step. "Lady Maritza awaits you in the corridor," Ike said with a small wave. Ronan caught Ike before the graceless man teetered over on his crutches."I'll wait here," Ike said with a nervous and appreciative laugh."Maritza," Ronan whispered, exiting the hospital ward. The name clung to his lips like magic, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had heard it before. Perhaps the
Maritza strutted down the corridor in long, quick strides. Ronan had to push himself to keep pace with her, and he got the sense that she was challenging him to see if he was ready to be deployed into training. To keep his mind off the discomfort in his throbbing abdomen, Ronan focused on the thick, curly blonde hair in Maritza's ponytail. He watched it bob up and down with each of her fast steps, then nearly toppled over Maritza when she came to a sudden halt at the door to the training grounds. Ronan tried to play it cool when she spun around, but Maritza noticed the bead of sweat dripping down the side of Ronan's head. She opened the door and signaled for him to head through first. The training grounds was a huge and open area packed with an assortment of tools that the Temple of the Serpent could have only dreamed of. Lines of humanlike dummies made of stripped wood occupied a wide section of flat dirt. Few trainees entered the zone for fear of messing up their pressed white pa
Ronan straightened his back, yet Farrier still towered over him. Looking up at Farrier and the man's perfectly parted wavy red hair, Ronan said, "Yes sir. I'm a hard worker looking to earn my keep."Farrier stood like a giant with his arms crossed. He assessed Ronan for a second, bellowed out a big laugh, then replied, "Follow me." Ronan walked behind the large man as Farrier led him to an open area past the tactician stall. In Farrier's apron pockets were an assortment of iron tools that jangled like bells with each obtrusive step he took. The back of Farrier's black shirt hung open by his shoulder blades, and Ronan saw that Farrier, like Maritza, was a Master Nightblade, though Farrier was a Rank 10. Interacting with two Nightblades so powerful made Ronan want to see their magic firsthand. He didn't know what those with the Mark of the Butterfly were capable of, and he was eager to find out. More than that, he wanted to learn whatever powers he could from Maritza and Farrier
The next morning, after a big breakfast of scrambled eggs and pork sausages with biscuits, Ronan made for the Training Grounds.With him was Ike, who had only a single crutch under an arm, and his long brown hair tucked into an elegant ponytail. His protruding muttonchop sideburns were oiled, shining, and smelled of chamomile. Ronan touched a finger to the gruff black stubble growing on his own face, then laughed. He wouldn't be caught dead with such a fancy haircut and beard trimming such as Ike's, no matter how much it might help him to fit in. In fact, Ronan didn't want to fit in. He wanted to stand out so he could win the attention of Maritza, who might be able to help him unlock his Shroud magic. When Ike and Ronan entered the Training Grounds, they saw rows of dozens of Trainees gathered. Everybody was stretching and limbering up, and Ronan saw that through the cuts in the backs of the blouses and shirts, the other Trainees were all Rank 2 or 3. Everybody, except Ike and Ron